I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. But for him she might have been alive and happy. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. I don’t know what has come over me. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. For it was not a good thing to like one man too much when one was going to marry another.
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